


Fired; or: How Iruka got his groove on - The epic Yakuza AU

by kameo_chan



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe, Drama, F/F, F/M, Gen, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-04-06
Updated: 2012-04-06
Packaged: 2017-11-03 04:20:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/377134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kameo_chan/pseuds/kameo_chan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Umino Iruka is always the sucker left to take the fall. Left nearly destitute, his only means of survival might just lie with one of Japan's most powerful organized crime families. What's a poor accountant to do?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. For Every One Door That Closes...

**Author's Note:**

> I really have no idea where this is headed, other than gangster!Kakashi trying to sex up accountant!Iruka. I cannot make promises on chapter updates, and will consistently refuse to do so. Also, have I mentioned the dauntingly large cast? Yes. I did call it the Epic Yakuza AU for good reason.

Iruka tried not to let the fact that he was packing up his desk under the hawk-eyed gaze of his superior get him down. Well, further down than he already was, at least. _Seven years with a company straight out of high school, and this is what you get_ , he mused sourly. And all because Mizuki had juggled the numbers on their joint project on one of the firm's biggest accounts and then made off with the siphoned funds. "Bastard," Iruka muttered under his breath. 

"No talking!" his superior, Koharu-san, sniped. There was a low murmur from the other cubicles. Iruka could feel the weight of a hundred inquiring eyes on the back of his neck like a yoke. He irritably scratched at the spot, trying to rid himself of the feeling. MISSION Ltd. was the kind of place where hard work got you nowhere fast unless you knew a friend of a friend of a friend. And the friend Iruka had known had conveniently skipped the country that morning on a first-class flight to Hawaii. Being backstabbed, he thought, wasn't fun at all, but at least he'd come out of this learning that trust was something to be cherished and distributed sparingly.

"Umino-san, please hurry up!" Koharu barked again, and Iruka desperately wished that he could sock the old bat in the face with a stapler. 

Half hour later, Iruka sat waiting for his train to arrive with a scant box full of office supplies and assorted knickknacks tucked under his arm. Iruka heaved a sigh, set his box down on the open space of the seat beside him and rubbed a hand over his tired eyes.

He'd tried desperately to fix what Mizuki had fucked up; had offered up most of his paycheck for the remainder of his term of employment as collateral. But in the end, they'd still let him go. The Chairman, Mitokado Homura, had eyed him like a suspicious cat during his final disciplinary hearing, as though he'd been afraid Iruka would make off with all the valuables in the conference room like a thief in the night. Sufficed to say, Iruka had felt lower than dirt by the time he made it past the stylish rotating doors of the towering skyscraper that housed MISSION's headquarters. 

"What the hell am I going to do now?" he wondered aloud, startling a passing mother and her son. The woman shot him a disapproving look, and before Iruka could catch himself, he stuck out his tongue at her. He hadn't done anything like it in close to ten years, but the way the woman's eyes widened in shock before she practically dragged her son off was definitely worth it. 

"You know, I haven't seen you do that since you were fourteen," a cheerfully loud voice boomed out. Iruka immediately stopped and craned his neck to see who had spoken. The crowd parted and suddenly, Iruka was face to face with a person he hadn't seen in ages. 

"Jiraiya-san!" he blurted as the man came striding over. It never failed to impress Iruka that such a big man could move with such effortless grace. Jiraiya gave him a huge lop-sided grin. 

"In the flesh," he responded and reached out to draw Iruka into a bear hug just as Iruka was getting up, heedless of the scandalized stares of passersby. 

"It's so good to see you again," Iruka said with a smile when Jiraiya released him. Running into an old family friend was the first good thing that had happened to him all day. "How have you been?"

"Busy," Jiraiya responded. "Like a bee. I've been travelling a lot; broadening my fields of interest, so to speak. But that’s enough of my hustling and bustling. What's all this? Unless I miss my guess, sitting with a box of useless junk is usually either an indication of a fresh break-up or an unfortunately early termination of employment. And since I don't see any panties in there, I'm going to assume it's the latter." 

Iruka scuffed the toe of one of his brilliantly shined shoes against the ground before reaching over to pick up and tuck the box under his arm again. "You could say that," he said, trying for nonchalant and ending up sounding pathetically miserable. 

"What happened?" Jiraiya asked as he sat down next to Iruka on the bench, one large hand draped comfortingly across Iruka's left shoulder. 

"Mizuki screwed me over royally," Iruka sighed once Jiraiya was settled. "He made off with over half of the funds from Sound Village Productions' account. And I was the fool left to take the fall." A dull sense of panic settled over him. "Jiraiya-san, how am I supposed to pay for my apartment? And I still have more than half of my student loans to pay off. I- I don't know what I'm going to do." The truth of the matter finally sunk in and Iruka slumped against the back of the bench, defeated. 

"Isn't that how it always goes?" Jiraiya asked, lacing his hands together and leaning forward to let them dangle between his legs. "You think you're helping a friend and then the bastards turn and bite the hand that feeds them." Iruka gave a weary nod of assent. 

They were both lost in quiet contemplation for a while, before Jiraiya finally spoke again. 

"I might be able to arrange something. I have a friend, an old colleague actually, that has urgent need of a capable accountant. But," and here Jiraiya drew a deep breath, held it for a second or two and then exhaled loudly. 

"But…?" Iruka asked, feeling a curious mix of hope and dread settle in a tight knot just below his heart. 

"It's, ah... What you might call a mob job." 

There was silence for a beat, and then Iruka began to laugh. "Jiraiya-san, you almost had my hopes up! But thank you, anyway. I needed a bit of a laugh after everything that's happened so far today," he said at last, wiping away a stray tear. 

"Iruka," Jiraiya said. Something about his tone of voice cleaved straight through Iruka's amusement like a butcher's knife. "I'm serious. It's good, honest work for the most part, and the pay? Well, let's just say that your student loans will be a thing of the past in three months tops. But it _is_ a mob job. The colleague I spoke of is the head of the Senju Family." 

Iruka gaped at Jiraiya for a moment, as though he'd never seen him before in his life. "You- you have dealings with the yakuza?!" he hissed. 

"Keep it down, Iruka. No need to stir up unnecessary flames. Yes, I have dealings with the gokudo. No, they don't involve the kind of things I know you're thinking they do. It's just simple white collar kind stuff. Nothing serious or life threatening, I promise." 

Iruka still gave him a sharp glance, but the tension that had wracked his body a moment before faded a little and he asked stiffly: "What would it entail? This job, I mean?" 

"Like I said," Jiraiya said with a wry smile. "It’s just some simple bookkeeping. The group needs an accountant like an old whore needs tricks. Things are a bit hectic at the moment, as I understand it. To put it mildly, my colleague’s financial affairs are in a whole heap of disarray." 

Iruka gave the statement due consideration, turning things over in his mind. Jiraiya would never lie about something like this, he knew, but still. What if the gift horse suddenly turned out to be a Trojan one? 

"Nothing majorly illegal?" he asked, voice dropping down to a whisper. He pinned Jiraiya with the sternest, most serious I-will-flay-you-alive-if-I-have-to-go-to-jail look he could muster. "No drugs or human trafficking or anything like that? I won't be forced to embezzle funds or launder money?" 

"No bad stuff, I swear it," Jiraiya said solemnly, holding up a hand and extending his pinkie. "On your parents' memory, I swear." 

"Alright," Iruka said with a reluctant shrug. "Okay. But if something happens I want you to know that they'll be crying their eyes out in heaven because you got me involved with suspicious people. That; and I'll hunt you down and shiv you once they let me out on parole."

"Heaven forbid," Jiraiya chuckled, and fished around in his jacket pocket for something. After a bit of fiddling, he produced a worn-looking business card with embossed golden lettering. "Here is the group's official business card. I'll go ahead and make the arrangements for your interview, and let you know when everything's happening." 

Iruka took the card with his unoccupied hand and gave it a sceptic glance. It was exactly the tacky sort of thing he'd always heard about and imagined these kinds of cards to look like. There was an elaborate dragon in the background, and a single, confusingly vague slogan. **With a Will of Fire, we give our all** , it read. 

"Don't worry about it so much, Iruka," Jiraiya said affectionately and ruffled his hair. Iruka winced at the force behind the gesture, but welcomed it still. "I promised Kazuki and Ohana that I'd keep an eye out for you, didn't I?" 

"Yes. Yes you did, Jiraiya-san," Iruka replied with a wistful smile. Jiraiya rose then, hand resting on Iruka's head a moment longer before he reached up and gave tremendous stretch. 

"Well, I've got a lot more to do now. Go home and get some rest. I'll call you in the morning," he said and gave Iruka a hefty pat on the back. "See ya again soon, alright?" And with that, he started off again. 

"Jiraiya-san!" Iruka called after him and watched as the older man paused, people streaming around him like small agitated fish. "Thank you very much for everything!" he called, bowing as deeply as he could manage with his box of possessions still tucked under his arm. Jiraiya grinned at him and gave him a small wave before continuing on his way again. 

When he could not longer make out Jiraiya's massive form amidst the jostling crowd filling into the station, Iruka looked down at the card in his hand. 

"Senju Family," he read out loud. _Well, a chance is better than nothing_ , he told himself and stuffed it in his pocket before adjusting his box as a sudden whining roar filled the platform. His train had arrived.


	2. In Which Iruka Meets a Princess (also known as Boss Lady)

Iruka was by nature a very nervous man. And staring at the sprawling, imposing luxury of the traditional mansion he was about to visit, he felt slivers of panic lodge themselves firmly in his midsection and refuse to go away. But work was work and a job was a job, as his father had been fond of saying, and Iruka wasn't going to make his fortunes and marry into a respectable family without landing a high-paying job first.

So, to quell the nervousness that fluttered around in his stomach like a wayward moth, he steeled himself and pressed the small, well-hidden button of the gate intercom. There was a dull buzz, and then an irritable voice asked: "Yeah? Whadda ya want?" 

Iruka, who was used to fussy clients who liked nagging enough to make it an official pastime, ignored the rude tone and stated as firmly and clearly as he could: "Umino Iruka, accountant. I am here to see Tsunade-sama about the... interview." There was a pregnant pause, and Iruka thought he could almost hear the excruciatingly slow grind of mental gears, before the voice replied. 

"All right. I'm letting you in. Wait inside the gate. Someone will be there to escort you to the main house in a minute or two." The intercom went dead and the automated gate - a beautiful wooden construct with handsomely carved slats made from what looked like solid pine - slid open with a faint metallic ring. 

Iruka briskly made his way just inside and waited as instructed. From this side of the gate, the sheer size of the grounds was mind-boggling. He spied a koi pond larger than the total cubic measurement of his apartment, and tried to suppress the sudden feeling of insignificance that stole over him. He was still staring balefully at the exuberant displays of wealth, when a hand fell on his shoulder and nearly had him leaping out of his skin. 

When he turned around, he was confronted by a cheerful smile and expressive, almond-shaped eyes. _Korean?_ he thought, even as he tried to stammer out a greeting. "Ah, um, Umino Iruka at your service. I'm here about the -" 

"The interview? Yes, I know. Jiraiya-sama called yesterday to inform us," the man before him replied amicably. "Welcome Umino-san, to the Senju Family home. My name is Yamato and I am to serve as your guide." 

"T-thank you," Iruka replied uncertainly. Senju Family home, the words echoed in his mind. _I really am going through with this, aren't I?_ he thought and swallowed hard. _A job is a job is a job is a job. Just breathe, Iruka, just breathe._

"Umino-san?" Yamato questioned and the hand on Iruka's shoulder tightened ever so slightly, giving him a firm shake. "You all right?" 

"Yes! Perfect! I’m absolutely fine!" Iruka replied hastily and plastered a wide grin on his face. "Pardon my manners, Yamato-san. I was merely thinking what a great honour has been bestowed upon me," he lied through his teeth and gave a helpless shrug. Yamato levelled him with a sly, knowing look and Iruka wished he could melt away into the elaborate cobblestone paving. 

"It's perfectly normal to be intimidated the first time around, Umino-san," Yamato said with a chagrined laugh. "It comes with the territory of being employed by the gokudo, after all." Iruka flushed and tugged at the collar of his formal dress shirt. It felt like his tie was trying to suffocate him. Yamato patted his shoulder and turned back to the main compound. "It's really not as bad as you think, Umino-san. Now then, if you'll follow me please." 

Yamato lead him to the main house's front porch, where Iruka was met by an aging bear of a man with a stiff back and a stiffer face. _A retainer. Ancestors help me_ , Iruka prayed, as he bent to take off his shoes and place them in the neat pile near the front entrance. The retainer held out a pair of soft house slippers, and Iruka put them on wordlessly. They were a tad too big, but he wasn't going to complain, not when what looked like a retired pro-wrestler stood a mere arm's length away. _What have I gotten myself into?_

"Well, Umino-san, this is as far as I go. I'll leave you in Ibiki-san's care for now," Yamato said and offered his hand. Iruka took it, a bit disappointed that Yamato had to leave - especially when faced with the retainer's blank stare and frightfully scarred, unsmiling face. "I guess that if all goes well, I'll be seeing you around. Take care!" And with that, Yamato ambled off again, hands in the pockets of his slacks. Iruka mustered his courage and waited patiently as the retainer gave him a silent once-over. 

"Iruka-dono," Ibiki said eventually and motioned with one hand as he opened an ornate screen door with another. "This way, if you please. Tsunade-sama is waiting." He started down one of the long corridors without preamble, not bothering to check on whether Iruka followed or not. _Well, that's just plain rude_ , Iruka thought indignantly, but he scurried on after Ibiki nonetheless. _No way in hell am I getting myself lost in this den of iniquity_ , he told himself sternly. 

The walk seemed to take forever, and Iruka was half out of breath from trying to keep up with Ibiki's unnaturally long stride when they finally reached a beautifully painted screen door. Iruka marvelled at the fine detail of the inked birds and butterflies, copied with life-like accuracy down to each feather-tipped wing and fuzzy feeler. "Tsunade-sama," Ibiki intoned solemnly, and Iruka shook off his wonderment to concentrate on what might lie beyond the door. "Iruka-dono is here to see you now." 

"Send him in," said a clear, high voice from the other side. Ibiki gave a wordless nod and slid the screen door open to reveal an attractive woman with long blonde hair and a knife-edge to her steely grey eyes. Iruka had to admit, he was thrown off balance for a beat. He had grown up much like every other decent, law-abiding civilian, hearing tall tales about the yakuza. Everything from cutting off fingers and cutting out tongues for disobedience and disrespect, to bloody shoot-outs and crazy men storming into the bars and nightclubs of Kabukichō, brandishing swords and murdering patrons. 

But in all his life, he had never heard of a woman heading a group. Mob wives? Yes, and that they had tempers every bit as sharp and deadly as the husbands they so faithfully served. But never a woman as the head of an organized crime operation. 

"You're staring. Close your mouth before you catch flies," the woman barked and Iruka flushed bright red, rubbing at an old scar across the bridge of his nose. "And come in. There's a reason that door exists, and no, it's not just because it's decorative." Iruka fidgeted, and then rushed in. From behind him, he heard the soft swish of the door sliding shut again and then the sound of heavy, retreating footfalls. He stopped at what he deemed to be a very respectful distance away and dropped to his knees in a deep, formal bow with his head resting on his hands. 

"It is a pleasure to meet such an esteemed person such as yourself, Tsunade-sama," he intoned in his most polite voice, the one that always had his superiors in fits of adulation about his dedication and solid work ethic. Or _had_ , at any rate. He hoped that she wouldn't catch the faint tremor in his voice, or the way his hands shook against the plush tatami. 

"So you're the poor sensei Jiraiya's been harping on about all this time. Well then, get up and let me look at you properly," Tsunade said in a tone that brooked no argument. Iruka thought it quite possible that a voice like that alone was probably enough to set the group's enemies and rivals wetting their best suit pants. He certainly felt a bit like wetting his, but he obeyed as swiftly and silently as possible. There was no sense in provoking someone who could have your head on a platter and your body dumped at some obscure location in the Tokyo Bay area. 

To his surprise, however, by the time he'd straightened up, Tsunade was already on her feet and stalking over to him. She took his jaw in one hand, and Iruka was unprepared for the wicked strength in those slim fingers with their well-manicured, red-lacquered nails. 

"Hmm…" She turned his face this way and that, tilted it up and yanked it back down. "Good bone structure. Handsome too," she murmured absentmindedly. "And with honest, good old-fashioned Japanese eyes. I like that." She gave a devious smirk when Iruka went red.

"Now open wide," she said and prodded his mouth. Iruka obeyed meekly, opening his mouth as wide as possible as Tsunade took his chin in a one-handed death grip. For a moment, he entertained a horrifying vision of there being left-over natto stuck to his teeth, but the moment passed and Tsunade merely made more harrumphing noises. "No cavities, crowns or fillings. These are all your own right?" She didn't wait for a reply though and steamrolled on. "Impressive. What kind of shape are you in sensei?" The latter was accompanied by the steely fingers of her unoccupied hand digging into his ribs and running up and down his sides, pausing occasionally to poke at his stomach.

Iruka felt affront bristle along his spine. "I beg your pardon, Tsunade-sama," he began hotly once she let go of his face to tap a finger against her chin. "But what does my level of physical fitness have to do -"

"Can you dodge a bullet from the back seat of a car? Can you run for your life when you're being pursued by a rival group's assassins for the information you possess about the current state of our group's financial affairs?" Tsunade's voice cracked like a whip and Iruka had the grace to look down at his slipper-clad feet. "Well, do you? If you are going to work for this group, Umino-san, you will need to be able to do all those things and even more. Is that a good enough reason to satisfy your fragile sensibilities?"

Iruka rubbed at his scar again, his most telling nervous habit. "Forgive me, Tsunade-sama. I hadn't realized that there would be such... extreme measures taken against someone as lowly as an accountant like myself. Please pardon my ignorance. To answer your question, I don't really get as much exercise as I should, but I would wager that I am in decent enough shape."

Tsunade clucked her tongue, and when Iruka ventured a look at her, she had her arms folded across her ample bosom. Her eyes, though still flinty, were dancing merrily. "Apology accepted sensei. Now then, what do you think, Kakashi?" Tsunade clapped her hands togther once, and Iruka was stunned to see a shape suddenly peel itself off one of the far walls of the spacious room.

"A bit tricky, Hime-sama," drawled a nasal voice. "Looks like he might make the cut, but I'm worried about that nervousness of his. ‘S kinda skittish. Not exactly a good quality when it comes to our kind of business."

"I beg your pardon? And what kind of business would that be?!" Iruka balked. The shape was a man. His simple black suit was clean-cut with flattering lines that highlighted a broad set of shoulders, although the image was half-ruined by his slouching posture and pocketed hands. Iruka took in the shock of white hair and the eye-patch over the left eye with wide eyes. Here was a mobster if ever he'd seen one. The man simply radiated danger, and the room suddenly seemed a lot more cloying. _How the hell didn't I notice him before?_ Iruka wondered, mouth dry.

"On the other hand, he's got a bit of a temper and a hell of a lot of backbone though. That's always a good sign. Makes my job easier, at any rate." The man - Kakashi, was it? - continued as though Iruka hadn't spoken and nodded at Tsunade with obvious approval.

"The feisty ones are always the best," Tsunade concurred appreciatively. "You've got the job."

"But you haven’t checked my references! I haven't even shown you my portfolio!" Iruka wailed. "You don’t know if my work is of good enough quality! I don’t even know where or when to start!"

"You're hired, sensei, starting now," Tsunade said, turning her back on him. There was something curiously off about her. "Now get the hell out. I have an important meeting scheduled and you're wasting my precious time. Kakashi." She snapped her fingers, and just like that, Iruka was gently but firmly bundled out of the room. As if by magic, the screen door slid open to reveal Ibiki's stern features.

"Thanks, Ibiki-san," Kakashi said brightly, still pushing Iruka out in front of him. 

"Kakashi-dono, Iruka-dono," Ibiki nodded and then closed the door behind them. And then he was being shoved along the corridor like a sack of potatoes, beating a hasty retreat from Tsunade's private quarters.

"What do you think you're - Let go of me!" Iruka bellowed once he was fairly certain that they were far enough away from Tsunade not to cause a ruckus. Kakashi immediately stopped shoving at his shoulders and when Iruka spun around to face him, he gave Iruka an apologetic grin. 

"Sorry, sensei," he said, raising a hand behind his head. Up close, Iruka noted that Kakashi was far younger than his white hair and eye patch made him seem, most likely his own age or a bit older, if not by much. "It's just that if you'd stayed, even a moment longer, she'd have beaten the crap out of you." 

Iruka stared at Kakashi, dumbstruck. "She'd have what?"

"Hime-sama would’ve beaten the ever-loving crap out of you. She gets like that when she's antsy for her gambling. She’s prone to violent mood-swings, that kind of thing."

Iruka hoped that he didn't look as confused as he felt. "Gambling sessions?" 

"Yeah, every Monday and Thursday. That's actually one of the reasons why we, ah, advertised. See, Hime-sama really, really loves gambling." An unspoken, but expectant continuation hung heavy in the air.

"And…?" Iruka ventured; eager to get this sort of thing out of the way as soon as possible. 

"She stinks at it," Kakashi stated flatly, waving a hand in front of his face to indicate what he thought about Tsunade's gambling skill. "As in, to the point where she's never even won one bet. Add to that the fact that she's absolutely useless when it comes to financial matters, and well... Last year she cost us nearly twenty million yen with pachinko alone."

"Twenty million yen?!" Iruka hissed. "That... That's outrageous! Don't you have a yearly budget set out?" Kakashi gave him a faint shrug. 

"Budget? What budget?" he asked, and laughed at the look of affront on Iruka's face. Iruka sputtered indignantly. 

"You can't run a business all willy-nilly like that! You need budgets! Profit projections; tables of revenue!" he bit out as the analytical side of his brain took over and lashed out furiously. "What do your tax returns look like? No, wait," he forestalled Kakashi with an outstretched hand just as he was about to reply. "I do not even want to know." Kakashi chuckled in apparent amusement. 

"I can take you to the archives if you'd like, sensei," he said, and threw his thumb over his shoulder. 

"Yes, yes that would be the best course of action right now," Iruka muttered, not really paying the other man much attention. He was already drawing up charts and bar graphs in his mind's eye, planning out incomes and expenditures. After all, hadn’t the lady herself said that he was to start immediately? 

"By the way, sensei…" Iruka was again momentarily distracted by the sound of Kakashi's voice. "I hope we'll get along well together. Please take good care of our little establishment." And with that, he gave Iruka a warm smile that seemed to light up his entire face.

"Ah, yes. Of course," Iruka replied and then doubled over in a stiff bow, his mental bookkeeping swept aside for the briefest of moments in favour of his usual stringent politeness. "Please take good care of me as well," he responded and came up with a smile of his own. "Now then, Kakashi-san. Which way are those archives?" Kakashi gave him a wide grin and a small thumbs up.

"Right this way, sensei," he said and started off down a side corridor. Iruka took a deep breath, steeled himself against whatever he might find lurking in the archives and set off after Kakashi. After all, work was work and a job was a job, and right now, Iruka had to do both.


End file.
